If Our Love Be True
by Allychik6
Summary: After the war, after a long string of odd boyfriends, Ginny finds she just can't let go of one love...a man whose already broken her heart twice.


**If Our Love Be True**

The crystal wine glass stared back at me, almost as if it were mocking me in my weakness. Everyone in the big ballroom was a least a little bit sloshed, except me. And I was trying. To make matter worse, this was probably the first time in two weeks that I was sober.

Ever since I'd gotten the news that he'd come back to town, I'd been hitting the bottle a little harder then usual. And now my tolerance for the good bubbly was sky high. At least I was woman enough to admit it. Luckily, no one ever noticed my dirty little secret and therefore couldn't ask my reasoning behind the booze. Working out of the home was wonderful. But tonight, the one night I had an excuse for excess, I just couldn't stand the taste. The Champagne was too sweet.

"And here we have Ginny Weasley," Andrea O'Connell slurred. "She's—she's dating Harry Potter." She giggled.

"Interesting." Her companion drawled.

Maybe it wasn't the champagne that was too sweet.

I looked up at them through my wine glass, staring at their misshapen heads. Unfortunately, I could still recognize him. And my heart skipped several beats. Damn that thing, why did it always betray me? Of course he would come to this party, and of course we would meet.

"You're looking as lovely as ever, Weasley." How could I have ever imagined I might escape that drawl?

The glass might have distorted my vision of him, but not enough. I could still see his high cheek bones and feminine eyebrows, his paler-than-death skin and beautifully carved lips. And I could still see those frozen grey eyes, the same distant eyes from every memory. Or, at least the ones I'd let myself remember. "Malfoy." I didn't move.

And neither did he. "Dating Potter?"

Andrea seemed to have disappeared. Maybe she slipped under the table, unable to stand up any longer. Silly little twit must be a lightweight. I sat up and looked at him, contemplating an answer. A no would ensure my ultimate humiliation, and a yes would probably constitute for lying. After that debacle at Percy's birthday party, I'd sworn never to lie again. "Define dating."

He smiled, the one just for me, the one from the forbidden memories. "Poor guy, to be strung along by the likes of you." In all the time that had passed, that quirky turn of his lips hadn't lost one iota of its power.

Any response I might have conjured up was frozen before it began. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the smoothness of his cheek, the heat of his skin, and know that he was real. But my hand never left my lap. The years had hardened me against such silly notions. He never existed.

With a swig of champagne and a mock salute, Malfoy melted back into the crowd, leaving me alone at the head table. As we were the only people unfortunate enough to be sober, or at least not overly drunk, it was easy to follow his path. A gutsy blond glued herself to Malfoy's side and looked as if she had no intention of leaving, ever. I took pleasure in his momentary flinch of horror and ignored the stabbing in my chest.

"Hey Gin!" Harry fell into the seat next to me. "You look pretty…pretty…" He had no idea what he was saying. "Wanna—wanna go to my place?"

Any other girl would have been grabbing her coat and purse, but not me. Any other girl would see his thick, dark hair, wide shoulders, and strong arms. They would see The Man Who Lived. Me? I could see those things too, but when his lips brushed against my cheek or his fingers caressed my skin, I didn't feel little tingles of pleasure. Damn Malfoy.

"Sorry Harry, not tonight." Not ever.

"Why not?" He swayed in his seat. "Don't'cha like me?"

"Of course I like you." I started to haul him up, intending to take him home. "I was a fool fourth year…seventh year, and probably ever year after." If our love be true, my ass.

He started caterwauling some strange drunken song that only another drunk would have understood. From the little I could make out, I was glad to be sober. There was nothing worse then a drunken love song wasted on a cynic.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight, Mother Weasley?" Malfoy chuckled. "Going home so soon?"

"Some of us have lower tolerance levels then others." I explained and managed to not look at him by readjusting Harry's weight.

"Pity for him." Malfoy nodded at Harry, who of course had chosen that moment to be quiet. Did fate have something against me? "It looks like you could use some help."

"No thank you." I shuffled awkwardly towards the door.

The weight shifted as Malfoy took up one of Harry's arms. He sniffed at it in disgust. "You could just levitate him there."

"He's drunk, not helpless." I grunted and thanked what ever benevolent being that lived in the sky that Harry picked up his singing again.

At least the walk to Harry's apartment was short and uneventful, if noisy. But that racket had at least one good side effect, I couldn't hear anything Malfoy might have said. I would take any blessing I could get, especially tonight. Something had to go right.

It didn't take much work to get Harry into bed; he willingly climbed in. Of course, he was under the impression that I would be joining him. Poor guy. But honestly, he deserved it; this wasn't the first time I'd tricked him into bed. Nor would it be the last.

"Going to watch over poor, drunk, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. Would he ever get over that expression?

I was too tired to rise to the bait, otherwise it would have been a smack-down in the Potter living room. At least, that's what I told myself anyway. "No, it's late. I'm going home."

He stepped in front of me. "Did you kiss him?"

"What a stupid question!" I tried to brush passed him, try being the operative word there, andthen damned Harry for his paranoia and his no-apparation wards.

"It is, and yet I still want to know the answer. Did you kiss your boyfriend?"

In the dark, my glare didn't have much of an effect, but it was more of a time waster then anything else. "In order to kiss a boyfriend, one must first have a boyfriend." I sighed, waiting for the taunting to begin.

"You're not dating Potter?" He asked in a hiss.

I shook my head. "Everyone would like me to, the minister's sister dating the Man Who Fucking Saved Us All." I pressed a hand to my forehead, and then I laughed. The harsh barks of laughter echoed in the room until they dissolved into tears. What had I done to deserve this?

And Draco cradled me gently in his arms, safe, warm, strong arms. They were burly but not crushing as he helped me over to the couch. He was more of a sturdy man then anything else. His voice murmured soothingly, the tones soft and careful as he tried to calm me. His fingers wound their way through my hair and down my back, everything with the same intent.

It was always the same intent. "Don't do this to me, Draco." I feebly pushed his arms away. "Not again, I won't do it again."

"Do what?" He pried, gentle as ever.

"First you, then Dean, then Harry, and Colin." I had to get away from the couch, away from him. "Did you know I even dated a couple of muggles, but it always ended the same."

"How did they end?" He was trying to keep me talking, pulling out all that mental healer crap on me. "You can tell me."

Even though I knew what he was doing, I couldn't stop the words. They just kept coming and coming. "I was either the little woman who needed protection from the big strong man, or I was too much to handle, wild, crazy!" The words came faster and faster. "I went to therapy, you know.Hemione suggested it.AndI'll have you know, ittook me two years to get through all my relationship problems. And do you know what the healer told me? Do you know what he said?"

"What did he say?" I didn't need the encouragement now.

"That bastard told me that I needed a man like you, like Harry, that I was looking for someone larger then life!" I shouted and fell down in a chair. And that bastard was right. Ordinary would never be enough.

I wanted to cry and release my anger. But the tears wouldn't come, and so I gazed back blankly straight ahead, unseeing and lost in my pain. "Your fault." I muttered.

"Mine?" He said incredulous. "How is it my fault?" And when I didn't answer Draco went on. "I never wanted to treat you like 'The Little Woman'! But I had to do something; you were about to piss off everyone either of us had ever met! If I didn't do something we would have both wound up dead!"

"Which time?" I shot back at him. "Because if I recall correctly, during our first attempt at a relationship it was you who wanted to announce us to the world and damn the consequences."

He looked at me, a mix of sadness and pity caught in that gaze.

I buried my face in my hands. Never before had I so wanted to die.

* * *

"Thanks for taking care of me." Harry handed me my third cup of coffee, and for the tenth time I wished it were an Irish coffee. "Are you feeling aright?"

"I didn't sleep well." I mumbled and took a long sip. If I thought about it hard enough, I could almost taste the whiskey.

"Sorry," He said, looking a bit sheepish thinking it was his fault. I let him. "Did you bring me back here by yourself?"

Lying was out of the question, but then again I didn't have to lie. "You aren't that heavy." Punctured by a sassy grin, he would take that as an answer to his question. "I better get home."

He didn't stop me as I walked out the door and apparated home. I hadn't expected him to.

Sassy whined at me for being gone so long. Who needed an over protective roommate when I had a possessive cat? I leaned down and scratched her ears; she purred. Nothing beat a quiet Sunday at home.

* * *

After all that happened, I hope it would be needless to say, butI didn't go out the next weekend.

Or the one after that.

* * *

But the Minister's sister couldn't hide forever.

It was a family style dinner, except that the meal was catered and we were all dressed in formal wear. And there wasn't enough alcohol at the table. _Minister_ Ron and his _lovely_ wife Hermione sat at the head surrounded by all the heads of the various departments including Head Auror Potter and his _date_, me. The whole reason for this _lovely_ dinner was seated next to my _darling_ brother.

There probably wasn't enough alcohol in all of London. Damn my tolerance.

"And then I said the only way to keep me from returning was to get me to spilch myself." Everyone laughed, and I had to resist the urge to storm away from the table.

How could he be so charming? How could my brother go back on years of hatred and betray me? How could Hermione smile at him with such happiness? How could this have happened to me?

"Excuse me," I murmured, needing to escape.

If this was going to be the pattern of my existence, I really needed to tell Ron to fuck himself and never set foot outside of my apartment again. Was Draco Malfoy stalking me? Hadn't he messed up my life enough already? Hadn't I learned my lesson?

I hurled a towel across the bathroom, and it hit the wall with an almost satisfying smack. It wasn't enough to appease my anger; Slapping Malfoy might have done the trick. But only if I hit him so hard it broke his neck. That would certainly be satisfying. Perhaps the mere thought would keep me sane for the evening.

When I got back to the table precisely three and a half minutes later, dessert was being served, a three tired chocolate cake with a red frosting rose on the very top. Everyone was engaged in polite conversation. Harry and _Our Esteemed Guest of Honor_ were chatting quite happily about some Quidditch team or other. How the two of them managed to strike up a friendly acquaintanceship was beyond me. I certainly couldn't stand either of them. Maybe that was their point of commonality?

"Don't you agree, Ginny?"

I think my mouth dropped slightly with my loss of words. For the first time in seven years he had called me by my first name—just like old times. I'd be sitting around, somewhere out of the way, out of the crowd, but Malfoy would catch my eye and say in a loud voice 'Don't you agree, Ginny?' And I'd wink at him.

Luckily for me, the server prevented me from doing anything foolish. He put a piece of cake in front of me, one with half of the _perfect_ red rose. Harry had the other half. It could have been worse, but not much.

"Ah, how sweet!" One of the wives cooed. "A rose for the love birds."

Where was the alcohol?

There is a saying, something like the Devil's work is never done. I would firmly state, without any hesitation, that the words devil and minister were completely interchangeable. My brother always found a reason to put me through hell, again.

* * *

Two dinner parties and a "Fete" later, Fred and George threw a party—one with enough booze for me. These were my kind of people, the ones who appreciated a good grade of beer, loved the buzz of drinking, and knew about five hangover cures. And they didn't ask questions, just passed over the bottle when the glass looked a little low.

"These guys should come to the next ministry party," I told the guy next to me without looking away from the bartenders. They were one gigantic booze mixing unit, and it was awesome. "That's what we need." The guy didn't say anything; I think he passed out. But it didn't matter as I was content to people watch and drunk enough to be entertained.

But not drunk enough to miss Malfoy when he parted the crowd and asked for a dirty martini. The one female bartender mixed it with a flourish and a smile. I hated her.

"You don't want that stuff." Apparently I was drunk enough to talk to the little bastard. "Give him a beer too." The woman scowled at me, and I felt better.

"Why is it, Weasley, that when I want your company you can't get away fast enough, and when I want an evening alone, you're right there?"

"It's the beer." I smiled at him. "I've finally had enough to make me happy."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and stared for a moment, trying to decide what to make of me, probably. And then he just drank the beer. He signaled for another one, and the martini was ignored. I felt really good. "Why haven't you forgiven me? Everyone else has."

"If our love be true," I muttered into the glass and then drained it. "Do you realize it was my fourth year, then my seventh, and now—again, three years later? We have a three year cycle."

"We don't have a cycle, Ginny." Malfoy muttered.

"Yes we do. I decide to give you a chance, you behave wonderfully, and I inevitably fall for you. Life is good. Everything is wonderful." I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't moved. "The sex is great."

He never looked at me, and his expression never changed. He just sat there, staring at his glass as if it would suddenly burst into song.

"And then, in the blink of one of your gorgeous grey eyes, it's all over. You're gone, and I am left alone. Completion of cycle." I reached across him and grabbed the martini. In one long gulp, I drained the glass. "Time to start over."

We sat there, the two of us—friends, enemies, lovers, and who knew what else. But for the first time, it was just him and me with no one in between. No Harry to fight with. No Voldemort to protect me from. No meddlesome parents. No over protective brothers. And we couldn't say anything to each other.

"If our love be true, just had to tempt fate, didn't we? Found that little spell, and voila. Here we are. Neither of us could ever turn down a challenge like that." Malfoy turned to face me even though he didn't look at my face. "We had that in common."

"I can't go down that path again with you, Draco." I whispered and held the martini glass as tightly as I could. "I can't do it; I just can't do it. Please don't ask me." Had I actually been reduced to begging?

"Come home with me." He fixed those grey eyes on me, the warm ones, the ones filled with longing, hope, and (dare I say it?) love. "Please, Ginny, please come home with me."

My whole body froze, except for the tears running down my face. Then my shoulders began to shake, tormented by sobs I simply couldn't voice. And my hands clenched, forcing the glass to bruise the skin of my hands. Every part of me ached. I _ached_ for his touch.

But my mind rebelled. It screamed no, shouted never, and shrieked absolutely not. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." The words left my lips in a bare whisper.

I had control.

I ran.

And he beat me home.

"You can't run from me, Ginny." He said with enough certainty and hopelessness to freeze my blood. "Trust me; I've tried to escape you. But no matter how I fight against it, you're always in my mind, under my skin. Hell, you're probably in my blood too. And as much as you live in me, I live in you the same.Blame thespell if you don't like it, but I'm not going away."

My keys clattered on the ground because my hands shook so hard. "No."

He stalked forward. "When was the last time you held a man in your arms? Or kissed one? Or even let him touch you? When?"

"Nothing, nothing in the last year. I—I just—I just can't!" My eyes felt heavy and my head thick. It dawned on me that I was going to cry again. "I hate you!"

His cool fingers touched my eyes, trailed over my cheeks, caressed my nose, and then they came to my lips. "Say you don't mean it."

I couldn't look at him or I would crumble into a thousand pieces. Such care, such gentleness, such love in ever stroke of his fingers. I couldn't look away.

"I was young and stupid the first time. I shouldn't have let Potter get between us." His breath smelled faintly of the beer.

"And the second?" His touch felt so good.

"Arrogant and selfish. Don't make me live without you any longer." He pleaded. "I won't survive." Our noses touched.

"If our love be true." I raised my head just slightly.

"Fate, make us one, instead of two."

I finally found home.

**This is what happens when I've been reading the Dark books too much...don't know what I'm talking about? There's a whole series of books about vampires called things like Dark Prince, Dark Magic, Dark Melody...pick one up...just one though...they're all the same.**


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